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very different intentions from those to which they are devoted by the practised hand of the fair cartoonist. We hopefully await the refreshing fad that will recommend a face brush, a box of golddust, and a bar of tar soap.
Have you never noticed that fad does not concern itself only with the whims of the feminine mind ? Have you never noticed that it also penetrates the mighty fortress of the masculine intellect, and, with its wily craft, makes triumphant appeal to the seemingly urn impressionable nature of man’s vanity? The fastidious man—and his name is legion—rejoices in a goodly collection of ties, which run the course of freak notions, and which are not always selected with due consideration for complexions. His socks, polka-dotted, striped, ribbed and checked, outrival the shades of the rainbow, and my dignified Sir knows well the art of displaying these tinted creations to the very best advantage. We have not mentioned buttonhole bouquets, waxed mustaches, wrist watches, belted coats, or coated frat pins. We leave ample margin for your ability to fill out the picture. When our fad-stricken youth follows the attraction of the tennis court, we see him with utmost care and his sister’s spotless stocking bandage deftly his cherished pompadour, lest the glossy locks become disordered. Perhaps the fad of avoiding a hair-cut is elastic enough to encourage the growth of a queue. Who knows? This is only a suggestion; but why wait till'the war is over? American men have ere this afflicted themselves with Italian goatees, French mustaches, English monocles and German ancestors. Why stop at a Chinese queue? Speaking of tennis reminds me that our sport-garbed, white-slippered gentleman finds no day too warm, no sun too hot, no stretch of miles too long, to keep him from the fascinations of the golf-links. Ask him to run a lawn-mower over a tiny area all his own and you will be quickly convinced that golf is a justifiable fad, and cutting grass a preposterous injustice. We just want to remark in passing that every other man, coming along the street, tilts at any angle he likes, a bunch of weeds cleverly disguised by an innocent piece of white tissue paper. Is this a fad, or a habit, or a habit grown out of a fad? The boys will tell you it is wholly smoke—but why do they want to compete with a stovepipe or a chimney?
Here, sad to say, mental question marks begin to play havoc with all that might be written apropos of the present theme, if it were not for the—censor. But even his skillful shears cannot cut out of history the fact that the greatest Movements have been agitated, the deepest problems have been solved, the noblest inspirations have been given to poets and dreamers in the ages of activity, in the periods of unrest. History does not mention fads, but when we see a rose we usually expect to find a thorn. We are living in an age of unrest—so we hear; and restlessness is the hot-bed in which fads germinate most quickly. To arms! The invasion of fads is on in the name of patriotism. The California lassie is tattooing her arm with the initials of the absent soldier whose affections she claims. America is a free country. Every American girl is free to follow a fad. We await results. We have heard before of people

very different intentions from those to which they are devoted by the practised hand of the fair cartoonist. We hopefully await the refreshing fad that will recommend a face brush, a box of golddust, and a bar of tar soap.
Have you never noticed that fad does not concern itself only with the whims of the feminine mind ? Have you never noticed that it also penetrates the mighty fortress of the masculine intellect, and, with its wily craft, makes triumphant appeal to the seemingly urn impressionable nature of man’s vanity? The fastidious man—and his name is legion—rejoices in a goodly collection of ties, which run the course of freak notions, and which are not always selected with due consideration for complexions. His socks, polka-dotted, striped, ribbed and checked, outrival the shades of the rainbow, and my dignified Sir knows well the art of displaying these tinted creations to the very best advantage. We have not mentioned buttonhole bouquets, waxed mustaches, wrist watches, belted coats, or coated frat pins. We leave ample margin for your ability to fill out the picture. When our fad-stricken youth follows the attraction of the tennis court, we see him with utmost care and his sister’s spotless stocking bandage deftly his cherished pompadour, lest the glossy locks become disordered. Perhaps the fad of avoiding a hair-cut is elastic enough to encourage the growth of a queue. Who knows? This is only a suggestion; but why wait till'the war is over? American men have ere this afflicted themselves with Italian goatees, French mustaches, English monocles and German ancestors. Why stop at a Chinese queue? Speaking of tennis reminds me that our sport-garbed, white-slippered gentleman finds no day too warm, no sun too hot, no stretch of miles too long, to keep him from the fascinations of the golf-links. Ask him to run a lawn-mower over a tiny area all his own and you will be quickly convinced that golf is a justifiable fad, and cutting grass a preposterous injustice. We just want to remark in passing that every other man, coming along the street, tilts at any angle he likes, a bunch of weeds cleverly disguised by an innocent piece of white tissue paper. Is this a fad, or a habit, or a habit grown out of a fad? The boys will tell you it is wholly smoke—but why do they want to compete with a stovepipe or a chimney?
Here, sad to say, mental question marks begin to play havoc with all that might be written apropos of the present theme, if it were not for the—censor. But even his skillful shears cannot cut out of history the fact that the greatest Movements have been agitated, the deepest problems have been solved, the noblest inspirations have been given to poets and dreamers in the ages of activity, in the periods of unrest. History does not mention fads, but when we see a rose we usually expect to find a thorn. We are living in an age of unrest—so we hear; and restlessness is the hot-bed in which fads germinate most quickly. To arms! The invasion of fads is on in the name of patriotism. The California lassie is tattooing her arm with the initials of the absent soldier whose affections she claims. America is a free country. Every American girl is free to follow a fad. We await results. We have heard before of people